


a dark and wicked thing

by asweetepilogue



Series: Geraskier Octoberfest 2020 [8]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Phobias, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Whump, Whumptober 2020, as usual, but he tries his best, geralt doesn't know what to do in the face of strong emotions, jaskier is afraid of the dark, the bard can't be brave ALL the time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27049927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asweetepilogue/pseuds/asweetepilogue
Summary: Geralt doesn't realize what's happening until it's too late.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier Octoberfest 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957933
Comments: 17
Kudos: 300





	a dark and wicked thing

**Author's Note:**

> for whumptober #18: Phobias

Geralt doesn’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late. 

They’re hunting venomous arachas - nasty business, in Geralt’s opinion. They’re exceptionally dangerous to humans and more of a nuisance to him, their toxins rendered an annoyance by his mutations. A quick Golden Oriole before engaging with a group of them makes it easy going, and he’s already cleaved through a large number of them. But the ones they’d already encountered had been small, underdeveloped, and Geralt knows that there must be a queen nearby laying eggs. He spends the better part of an hour looking for a place where she might be hiding, and thinking about what the hell he wants to do with Jaskier, before he finds the cave entrance. 

The bard is currently trailing after him, chattering away about how he’s going to find something to rhyme with _chitin_. Geralt turns away from the entrance to the cavern, barely a noticeable hole in the ground, and interrupts him. Jaskier’s eyebrows shoot up in an offended look, but he does have the decency to shut up and listen. “We’re going to have to follow it back to its nest,” Geralt says. Jaskier adjusts the bag on his shoulder, lute exchanged for more practical medical supplies and witcher potions. Geralt had said he could come along if he did something helpful, so he’d been manning the supplies. 

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” he says, cheerful as ever. Geralt rolls his eyes.

“You’re coming along,” he says. “Unless you want to get eaten by a stray arachas.”

Jaskier pales, probably at the idea of a giant spider making him lunch. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows heavily. “Oh. I thought you, ah, took care of those? I thought you wanted me to stay back until it was all wrapped up.”

“What, suddenly you’re not eager to follow me into the maw of certain death?” Geralt asks, shooting Jaskier a raised eyebrow. He stuck his boot down inside the small hole, testing the edge for footholds. Under the dirt the rock wall is solid, offering plenty of rough surfaces to catch himself on. He glances back up at Jaskier, who looks faintly nauseated. Strange; he wasn’t usually so adverse to delving into dangerous situations. Maybe he’s finally developing a sense of self preservation. 

“Perhaps the maw,” Jaskier says nervously, “but the belly is what concerns me.”

Geralt decides not to dignify that vague statement with a response, instead dropping himself down into the hole. It’s wide enough that he doesn’t feel worried about his swords catching on the sides, but close enough that he can lean back and brace himself against the opposite wall if needed. The bottom is only fifteen or so feet down, and Geralt drops the last five into a slightly larger area. Damp, porous stone holds him in a close embrace, and Geralt spares a moment to be grateful that he’s not claustrophobic. He has to lean over to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling, but he can hear echoes of dripping water and clattering stone down the way that promises a wider area ahead. A few scattered pieces of rubble bounce harmlessly off of his shoulder, and Geralt moves aside to make room as Jaskier slides the last few feet down into the cave. He’s slung the pack with its delicate potions around his front, and takes a moment to right it as he gets his bearings, eyes wide.

“Well this is cozy,” Jaskier says. His tone is jovial, but something about his scent isn’t right. He’s scared of something, Geralt realizes, confused. He knows Jaskier isn’t claustrophobic - the number of times they’ve had to squeeze themselves into tiny closets to avoid Jaskier’s irate lovers is testament to that. Being in close proximity makes Geralt’s heart rate accelerate for entirely different reasons, but Jaskier has never seemed bothered either way. Often Geralt has wished that Jaskier was _more_ prone to fits of panic. He always seems to put full faith in Geralt, trusting the witcher to protect him. Geralt is pathetically grateful for it even as it fills him with terror. 

Geralt regards Jaskier intently, tracking the way his breath hitches and his eyes skirt around the narrow space. Maybe he’s afraid of the monsters they’re hunting. If he’s smart, that’s all it is. “Come on,” Geralt says. Whatever is bothering Jaskier, he’ll either come out with it or he’ll move past it once they’re out of here and the job is done. The faster they move, the quicker that will be the case. 

Geralt stalks ahead, pulling his silver sword from its sheath as he moves slowly forward into the dark. It’s awkward in the small space, but he’d rather have it in his hand than be unprepared when an arachas drops down on them. He can hear Jaskier’s footsteps after him, unsure and unsteady. Geralt frowns at the floor, trying to focus on looking for tracks instead of Jaskier’s odd behavior. 

They leave the small passage, coming into a larger area scattered about with stalactites that drip with perspiration. The smell of damp stone is a cool backdrop to the cloying stench of acidic decomposition. They’re close. 

Geralt doubles back to where Jaskier is standing at the exit of the tunnel, shoulders tense and fingers clutches the straps of the pack in a white knuckled grip. The sour fear-sweat-anxiety scent around him is more intense than Geralt’s ever experienced before. He reaches out and puts a hand on Jaskier’s arm, just above his elbow, and the bard jumps like a startled animal. 

“Sorry,” Geralt says, and means it. “I need Cat.”

Jaskier nods jerkily. Geralt’s concern grows, but he focuses on retrieving the potion. It’s hard to tell them apart in the dim light, but Geralt knows the smell of them better than he knows his own name. He downs the Cat, the world coming into sharp focus around him in shades of black and white and greenish gray. Jaskier’s face looks even more wan in the odd lighting, his eyes wide and dilated. It puts Geralt on edge. 

“They’re up ahead,” he says, giving Jaskier’s shoulder one last squeeze. “Stay here.” He turns, preparing to head in the direction of the acidic smell, but Jaskier lunges for him, gripping the edge of Geralt’s shirt clumsily. His eyes don’t meet Geralt’s searching gaze. “What?” Geralt asks, impatient. 

Jaskier’s breath puffs out between them, shaky. “I can’t see,” he says, and Geralt would have expected it to sound petulant but instead Jaskier’s voice is thin and reedy. Geralt stops, letting Jaskier take his wrist in a grip that might be bruising on a human. “It’s too dark,” Jaskier says, “I can’t see anything, I don’t know where you are, Geralt -” His voice is climbing into panic, and Geralt flounders, unsure of what to do. He’d never seen Jaskier so upset, his heartbeat pounding away in fear. 

“Jaskier,” he says, unable to mask the shock in his tone, “are you afraid of the dark?”

“ _Yes_ , Geralt, apparently I fucking am,” Jaskier hisses, and Geralt is glad that Jaskier can at least still sound pissed at him. “This isn’t dark, this is fucking - _blackness_ , I can’t see shit. Don’t leave me, please, Geralt, I can’t.” He’s babbling, his breaths labored as they struggle out of his chest in shallow heaves. Geralt steps close again, raising a hand to cup Jaskier’s jaw. He isn’t sure what else to do. It seems to calm Jaskier to some degree, though his fingers still clutch around Geralt’s wrist.

“I can see,” Geralt says, “and I won’t let anything happen to you. I _won’t_ , Jaskier. But I have to kill the queen.” Jaskier’s jaw clenches. Geralt can feel it beneath his fingertips, a twitch of muscle. 

Jaskier takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Okay. Okay, I’m fine. Go… do your thing.” 

Geralt can still hear Jaskier’s heart racing in his chest. He hates it, at this moment, leaving Jaskier behind. He always hates it, but he’s never had to do it when Jaskier is gasping like a fish out of water and the smell of fear is permeating the air around him. Geralt is seized by the desperate need to do something, anything to make it better, so he reaches out and pulls Jaskier to him. The bard let’s out a short gasp before he realizes what’s happening, instantly wrapping his arms around Geralt to clutch at his back. Geralt finds himself holding the back of Jaskier’s head gently, cradling his skull. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he says into Jaskier’s hair. He feels so solid under Geralt’s hands, chest heaving as if he’s run a great distance. Geralt pulls back and cups Jaskier’s face in both hands. “I’ll be back for you.”

“I know,” Jaskier says, shaky but full of that strange, implicit trust. Geralt pulls away and turns before he can change his mind.

It takes very little time to find the arachas nest, nestled a few chambers away from the main room. The bulbous eggs have a slight glow to them that’s almost bright to Geralt’s enhanced vision, allowing him to quickly spot the hulking form of the arachas queen crouched against the back wall. He doesn’t hesitate, launching into a brutal attack. The arachas is startled and unprepared, and Geralt gives it no time to recover or retaliate. His mind is on Jaskier, alone in the other room, panicked and unable to see a potential threat. 

His blade makes its way home faster than it has in a long time. 

A short blast of _igni_ has both the body and the egg sacs burning away, and Geralt nearly runs back into the entrance where he left Jaskier. For a moment he doesn’t see him, and his stomach clenches with dread. 

Then he draws nearer, and he sees the huddled form against the wall. Relief sweeps through him. He tries to project his movements, stepping loudly as he approaches. “Jaskier,” he says, and the bard raises his head so quickly Geralt fears for his neck. There are tear streaks down his face, and Geralt’s heart clenches in sympathy and guilt. Crouching before him, he says, “I’m sorry. It’s done.”

Jaskier reaches out a hand, and Geralt finds himself leaning into it eagerly, reaching back. As soon as his fingers find Geralt’s chest, Jaskier lets out a relieved breath. “Can we go?” His voice is small, and Geralt hates it. 

He hums in affirmation and pulls Jaskier to his feet, allowing the bard to cling to him. “We can go,” he says. “Hold onto my shoulder.”

They make their way back through the short tunnel, Jaskier gripping Geralt’s sword holster tightly. The area just below the entrance is not entirely pitched black, and Geralt can feel Jaskier calming the closer they get. Geralt scales back up the wall first, emerging in the calm afternoon of the forest. Jaskier scrambles up soon after, using a rope that Geralt tosses down to haul their bags up first. It’s too bright up above with the Cat still running through his veins - normally he would have waited below until it had run its course, but he’s glad, now, to squint at Jaskier’s face through the intense light. Jaskier, for his part, flops over onto the ground next to him, breathing hard. 

Geralt drops down next to him, a frown furrowing his brow. “So no more caves,” he observes. 

Jaskier glares at him with bloodshot eyes, and ah, yes, there’s the petulance Geralt had been looking for earlier. “I’m certainly not doing that again,” he says with vehemence. Geralt smiles down at him, reaching out to push Jaskier’s hair back from his sweaty forehead. Their eyes meet, Jaskier’s fatigued. 

“I’m sorry,” Geralt says. “I shouldn’t have brought you along.”

Jaskier sits up so quickly they almost smack foreheads. “Oh no,” he says, pointing a finger in Geralt’s face. Geralt blinks at it, bemused. “You are _not_ using this as an excuse to leave me behind on hunts. I refuse. I’ll follow you. I’ll tie myself to Roach.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Geralt chuckles. “Even if I have to go in a cave?”

Jaskier hesitates, but then huffs defensively. “I’ll bring a torch. You’re not leaving me behind.”

Geralt smiles, affection rising in his chest. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I try,” Jaskier says, and the grin he gives Geralt is genuine and free of fear. Geralt can hear his heartbeat, steady between them. “It would be easier if you cut me some slack.”

“Don’t count on it,” Geralt says, and pulls himself to his feet. “Now come on; we’ve gotta collect venom sacks.” He offers a hand down to Jaskier.

Jaskier makes a face, but takes the offered hand anyways. Geralt pulls him up, holding him close and steady for a moment longer than necessary. The next several hours are spent on harvesting, a job that Jaskier detests but insists on helping with. And as Geralt is watching Jaskier grimace, up to his elbows in ichor, he thinks it might not be a difficult problem to fix. Light charms aren’t cheap, but he knows a few mages that owe him favors. The look of pleased surprise on Jaskier’s face will be worth the trouble. It’s for the best, he thinks. The bard truly is a danger to himself, but Geralt is stuck with him, it seems. As Jaskier looks up to triumphantly wave a venom gland at him, Geralt thinks it might not be such a bad thing. 

**Author's Note:**

> I really had to think about this one because I wasn't sure what kind of phobia Jaskier could have. I've seen some decent fics where he's afraid of heights after the mountain, but it doesn't really land with me as someone who is super afraid of heights (like you'd never get me on that pass in a million, trillion years lmao). I'm not afraid of the dark myself, but I've been in caves like that where no light gets in at all and I can see how even someone who doesn't mind nighttime darkness could suddenly find themselves panicking. Probably won't stop Jaskier, but I like to think he's not totally brave in the face of _everything_
> 
> come follow me on tumbrl! [asweetprologue](asweetprologue.tumblr.com)
> 
> p.s. I rarely write in present tense so if anyone sees any mistakes please please please don't hesitate to point them out!


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